December, 1962
by apigeonandaquill
Summary: The year is 1962, and the month is December, and the Five have just become the Four. James is left to deal with the emotional fallout from a vampire who has had a shocking and devastating brush with mortality and loss. Warning: Some mild Slash within.


_James arrives home from a day out in London, to find his window smashed in and his lights on all over the house. Further inspection reveals his uninvited guest to be Nikola, who is drinking his way through James' alcohol and eating all of his food, looking the picture of utter heartbreak. The year is 1962, and the month is December, and the Five have just become the Four. James is left to deal with the emotional fallout from a vampire who has had a shocking and devastating brush with mortality and loss. _

**Warning: Sadness/Angst, Character Death mentioned, minor slash between several members of the Five mentioned and shown.**

**Disclaimer: Sanctuary is not mine.**

* * *

**December, 1962**

James Watson was not accustomed to arriving home to find his front-room window smashed in and lights on inside when he knew he had turned them off. He released a low sigh, hating the thought of having to use violence, but knowing it was probably inevitable, as whichever rock-star-inspired hooligan or young gangster had broken into his house was hardly going to come out without a fight. He drew and cocked his trusty revolver, slowly unlocked the door as quietly as he could, and crept into his hallway, holding the gun ready in case he had to use it. It would be a last resort, though, of course.

He unloaded and dropped it into his pocket as he came around the corner into his kitchen, as he was suddenly struck with the knowledge of who had broken and entered quite literally on this late, cold Saturday night. "Well, well. Someone's had a _smashing_ time." He remarked, as he entered the room, gun away now and hands on hips instead, an expression of mild annoyance on his face as he faced the miscreant responsible. "Nikola, there's a telephone to call me with in advance, and a door to open rather than destroying my bay window." He shook his head as the vampire straightened from his position of helping himself to a pot of jam from James' cupboard and turned to look at him. "What are you doing here?"

"You...you were meant to think I'm dead." Nikola responded, confusion in his eyes. "Who told you I wasn't?"

"You did, by climbing in through my window and leaving claw marks along the wallpaper leading to the kitchen. Did you really have to draw along? You could have just walked in, instead of destroying everything in sight."

"You don't sound surprised that I'm alive. You knew before today. Didn't you?" The vampire's voice was cold, his eyes untrusting.

James slumped into a chair, and shot Nikola his familiar, piercing gaze. "How about you drop the wine- you can keep hold of the jam- take a seat, and we can talk about everything including whatever has lead you, after twenty years of hiding and pretending that you're dead, to sneak into my home in the middle of winter and put yourself under considerable risk."

Nikola watched him warily for a long moment, then slowly deposited the nearly empty bottle of wine onto the sideboard, walking over while still dipping a spoon into the strawberry jam and eating whole spoonfuls of the sweet stuff at a time. He took a seat across from James, and continued to eat silently, working his way quickly through the small pot. James watched him in concern, as the twenty years that Nikola had spent in hiding hadn't done well for him, he was skinnier than he'd ever been and eating as if he hadn't in a week or more. He also had deep dark circles under his eyes, and James wondered how long it had been since the youngest of the Five had last managed to get a good night's sleep.

"Want to tell me everything?" James gently asked the vampire, hoping that he would be able to coax him to talk. He wasn't so fortunate.

"No." Nikola responded, shaking his head and clanging his spoon loudly against the glass, scraping the sides to get the last of the jam.

"Nikola, you just broke into my house, after twenty years of silence. We all thought that you were dead. I attended your memorial service, for God's sake." His voice nearly cracked with emotion, but he managed to suppress it. "You're eating my food and drinking my wine by the bottle. You at least owe me an explanation."

"I had to hide. I didn't want to. I had to. For...for everyone." He shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. "What does it matter anyway? What's done is done. No, I'm not dead, I never was. The body in the hotel was a lookalike. It was a set up. I made everyone think I'd died, so that I could escape, alright? Including you. Even you and John and Nigel couldn't know. I'm sorry." He genuinely seemed to be sorry, pain was visible in his steel-blue eyes.

"I see." James nodded to himself. "I thought it was something like that, to be honest."

"You knew?" Nikola looked surprised, then he sighed. "Oh, of course you did. You're you. I never should have even thought for a second that I'd get away with it."

"I didn't know, Nikola. Suspected, but suspected wasn't enough without proof of your survival." James couldn't keep the emotion from his voice now, he was shaking and he stood to pour himself a glass of brandy to calm his nerves. "Everyone missed you. Everyone was grieving for you."

"Like I said, it wasn't something that I could help nor change." Nikola, on the other hand, wasn't showing much emotion at all. The younger man could have been a robot for all the expression in his face and voice. James knew better, though; he was well aware that Nikola was suppressing it, hiding his true feelings behind a wall. And James also knew, from the subtle markers in his face, the twitch in his lips, the sorrow in his eyes, the crease in his brow, that Nikola was dangerously close to falling apart.

So he lowered his voice, softened his tone, and leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Nikola, you're not in trouble. I'm not angry. I just want to know what made you change your mind, come out of hiding. Why did you come here tonight?"

"You honestly don't know, do you?" Nikola's voice had taken on a touch of bitterness, his eyes were filled with so much agony that it nearly broke James' heart then and there.

"Know what?" He asked quietly, dreading the answer, wondering what he had managed to avoid being told yet, what horror was about to meet his ears.

"This morning..." Nikola tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat, and he couldn't quite get them out. "Th-this morning, N-Nigel died."

_Oh God. _The words, when they came, hit James like a hammer blow, like a flash of lightning, burning his throat and his lungs and his eyes until they stung and tears swam in front of his vision and he couldn't quite see. He reached across the table with a trembling hand, grasping Nikola's fingers in his own. And then he wasn't sure just how it happened, but he rose to his feet and just pulled Nikola gently into his arms, and somehow they ended up knelt on the floor as if they were both half their age, holding each other close as the pain gripped them, the most unbearable, dreadful pain imaginable. James knew it was a hundred times worse for Nikola; Nigel had always been his closest friend, the other half of him whom he could trust always without a question. Nikola had never been good at dealing with pain or understanding it, and it was always devastating to see the vampire actually abandon all restraint and just cry until his throat was raw. James held him tightly, letting him rest his head against his chest and cry it all out, whispering soothing things occasionally as he ran his hands through the younger man's soft dark hair.

* * *

"I didn't know." He managed to say, at last. "I'm sorry, Nikola. I didn't know."

"Shush." The vampire had stopped crying now, and he moved slightly, brushing his lips over James' neck, his trembling not just being of sorrow anymore, but of something else as well, James would hazard a guess at desire; so he drew back, gazing into the younger man's eyes. "What are you doing, Nikola?" He asked, not angry, but apprehensive. The eyes had turned from steel-blue and almost grey to as black as night. He hadn't just been physically hungry, it seemed.

"Just shush." Nikola slipped into position again, his lips so close that James could feel his breath against his skin and it made him shiver; his heart sped up and he closed his eyes, half wanting to flee and half wanting to never move again as the last inches of space were closed between Nikola's cool lips and his throat-

"No." He moved away, carefully taking hold of Nikola's shoulders and forcing him to stop. "No. Feed off of me if you need to, but not the neck. It's too-" He trailed off, trying to think of the right word to describe it.

"-dangerous?" Nikola enquired, his voice almost childlike in its curiousity for a moment. "You know I'd never hurt you." Then, it turned husky, quieter, deeper, more animal and primal and desperate.

"-Intimate." James shook his head, catching the vampire's chin softly in his hands for a moment so that he could meet Nikola's eyes. "You're in shock, you're thirsty and you're grieving. You are confused."

"I am not." Nikola protested. "How is this different from any of the others, from Oxford, how am I different?"

"It's a line we've never crossed, and for a reason. I don't feel for you in that way. You are like family to me." James sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead momentarily, a headache threatening to form.

"Oh James." Nikola's voice had its bitter edge back. "We were all like family. One incestuous little family who didn't obey the boundaries as if we didn't even know them."

James pretended not to hear him, rolling up his sleeve and moving the wires and copper of his machine's connections out of the way, so that his vein could be clearly reached at his wrist. "Drink. We'll talk more when you're not blood-drunk."

Nikola gave a grin that held no humour and showed his sharp, elongated fangs. "As his lordship commands." He mockingly inclined his head, and then took James' wrist in his hands, and James tried not to cry out, tried to not admit how much it hurt.

* * *

He found the vampire in the kitchen later, working his way through another entire pot of jam. "A little more happy now?" He double-checked the fresh white bandage on his wrist again for safety as he took a seat, perching on the kitchen counter.

"No." Nikola said, shortly, as blunt as a table-knife. "You are not Nigel, even if you are comforting to me."

"I know that I'm not him. I'm not going to ask you what went on between the two of you—" He allowed his words to trail off, smiling at the vampire gently to show him that he really didn't mind. He knew as well as anyone what the Five had gotten up to, and he'd done his own experimenting after-all; he was hardly able to complain even if he had wanted to, which he did not.

"Good." Nikola replied, as bluntly and sudden as before. "Because I have no intention of telling you."

"Right." James rested his head back against the wall, listening to the cuckoo clock tick its way down towards the midnight hour. "I know, anyway. The basics."

"Of course you do. You were sleeping with John in the university library after-hours before I had so much as touched a woman, let alone a man." Nikola perched on another counter across from him, quietly tucking into his stolen jam and avoiding making eye contact.

"That is absolutely beside the point!" James spluttered, somewhat indignantly, his cheeks flushing bright red. "And it's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Isn't it?" The vampire tilted his head, making a mockery of innocence.

"Absolutely not." James shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he tried to get back on track. "Earlier, your actions towards me—"

"I was confused, like you said. Thirsty. Desperate." The vampire didn't seem to notice how much his words might sting those they were aimed at, or he simply didn't give a damn anyway.

"Yes, of course, as I said, but—"

"There's really nothing to talk about, James." Nikola jumped down from the counter, walking towards the archway into the dark hallway. "I lost the only person who completely understood me inside-out, at exactly eight-thirty-five am this morning. It made me realise some things that I didn't want to. We're all mortal. We're not infinite. Except me, and maybe Helen if I'm lucky. And I was thirsty and I felt lonely and for a while I didn't want to hurt, I just wanted to feel. I hoped, through you, I might be able to get some of the feeling I'm missing from Helen and Nigel."

"And have you managed it?" James enquired, his tone light and easy as if they were merely talking about the weather or something so normal and simple as that.

"No. You're not them. You're…" Nikola paused, trying to find the right way to explain. "Different." He finally settled for. "You're different. You're family. You're pure. It's not there." He paused again for a long moment, then shook his head. "And I can't be happy. I won't be, same as you won't be. For a very long time. And then, eventually, when I finally can smile again without being empty inside, some other crap will come down upon me, and then it'll be right back to square one."

James' heart ached for him, and he gently tried to reach for Nikola, but stopped himself just in time, his deductive abilities telling him that Nikola didn't want to be touched right now. "What are you going to do now?" He decided that it was a question that needed to be asked and perhaps, just perhaps, it was light enough.

"I'm going to stay with you. You'd better make room in your bed, I'm not sleeping on the floor or the sofa." It wasn't a request, but a demand, and James very nearly refused, but he knew he couldn't while Nikola was feeling like this. And Nigel would have wanted him to look after him through the worst. He couldn't imagine casting Nikola out onto the streets after midnight in December on the day his best friend and maybe-perhaps-almost-lover had died to fend for himself. So he went over and taped cardboard to his broken window, binned the empty pots of strawberry jam and wine bottles that Nikola had left lying around, and he walked upstairs to go and make the bed up ready, make sure it was comfortable.

It was all he could do, the least, the most. And when Nikola lay fast asleep, with his head on James' chest later that night, James lay back in the darkness, stared up at the ceiling, and the same question he'd asked Nikola rebounded in his own mind, in Nigel's voice, always in Nigel's voice. "What are you going to do now, Jimmy?" He asked, and James glanced to the sleeping vampire beside him and gently kissed his forehead, careful not to wake him.

"I'm going to do the best I can," He promised to Nigel's spectre and the empty ceiling,"…to put him back together again. To put us all back together." He swore it as solemnly as if he were hand-to-Bible before a court of the law. "That's what I'm going to do."

And he could have sworn that for just a second, he saw an outline, an imprint, a memory, of an impish smile in the shadows of the room.


End file.
